


Undone by the Touch of His Hand

by FemaleSpock



Series: Redemption Calls [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (I can't believe I just typed that), (kind of), Blood, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is not the messiah, M/M, Mind Control, Possessive Behavior, Religious Fanaticism, Stigmata (Freeform), Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemaleSpock/pseuds/FemaleSpock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the defection of Kylo Ren, the Resistance won the war, all but completely destroying the First Order. With nothing left to do, Hux hunts Kylo Ren, who styles himself 'Ben Skywalker' and promises redemption to citizens across the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undone by the Touch of His Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is technically a sequel to Remade in Marble but I think the situation is clear enough that you don't have to read it first. 
> 
> This fic is slightly undertagged - check the notes below if you want to know more about the major character death tagged above.

 

“Another drink?” the barkeeper asks, already pouring before Hux can answer. He supposes that it’s uncommon to refuse a second drink in a backwater cantina like this. Most of the patrons are a good deal more intoxicated than he is. They probably have to be, to detract from the décor alone, let alone their dismal lives on this dust bucket. The walls are washed in white and bare but for a single piece of art (if you can call it that) – a pin-up poster of a twi’lek girl that’s so faded, that it’s impossible to tell if her skin is blue or green. The bar itself is made from some kind of cheap wood and is almost completely coated in a sticky layer of spilt alcohol.

 

“I suppose I have nothing better to do,” says Hux as the drink is pressed into his hand. He flicks a couple of credits in the direction of the barkeeper.  

 

The man sitting next to him elbows him, almost causing Hux to drop the drink. “Nothing better to do?" Haven’t you heard? _Kylo Ren_ is in town.” The man spits the name and with it half a mouthful of drink over the counter. “I’m sorry. The former-Kylo Ren. He goes by another name now. Ben something or other. As if that makes a difference.”

 

Hux takes a sip of his drink. It's lukewarm but he knows better than to expect a cool drink here. It's hard not the grieve for the temperature controlled environment of the Finalizer. “I heard.” Why else would he have come to a backwater planet like this if not for Kylo?

 

“He thinks he can go parading around, preaching to us, when all the while…” The man jerks his head back, losing his train of thought.

 

The stench of liquor on his breath is overwhelming, even from a distance. Hux feels his face pinch up in disgust. He flinches as a dirty finger is shoved abruptly in his face.

 

“Say, you’re not one of his brainwashed followers, are yer? Here to receive his ‘divine blessings.’”

 

An indignant snort escapes his lips. “Hardly.” He’s not sure what he’s more offended by: the idea that he’s some ridiculous religious fanatic or the fact that this man, who clearly hates Kylo with a personal passion, doesn’t even recognise him. It doesn’t make sense, really, this impulse to be insulted. He’s gone out of his way not to be recognised: he’s grown his hair out to an almost intolerable length, neglected the discipline of a razor against the skin of his face, his clothing is sweat-stained and so loose it swamps him. He looks a wreck.

 

He was the doom of the Hosnian System once.

 

“I’ll let you in on a secret then: I’ve got a little welcome planned.”

 

Hux sees the glint of a blaster out of the corner of his eye. His mouth curves into a smile. “Oh, I think I’d like to see that.”

 

 “Well, let’s go then. Gotta get front row seats!” The man claps him hard on the back.

 

It’s an unwelcome touch.

 

For the briefest of instants, he considers throwing the man to the floor and ending him right here and now. But no. He can wait. He needs to see Kylo do it. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he lies. “I’m going to finish my drink first.”

 

* * *

 

The appearance is taking place someway out of town but so many have gone before him that it’s no trouble to find. He merely has to follow the imprint of boots in the rust-red dust. There’s a stage been put up. It looks poorly assembled, like it’s been made from odd pieces of wood just found lying around. A lopsided sign reading: ‘Ben Skywalker, saviour’ has been put up outside a rickety tent. He presumes that’s where Kylo is. There are two guards outside it – a man and a woman, both wearing billowy white robes and masks that cover the top halves of their faces. There are two more guards on either side of the stage, dressed identically.

 

Hux supposes they are supposed to be disciples but he knows a guarding formation when he sees one and it’s not too hard to work out that there are probably weapons hidden amongst the folds of those robes. It’s reassuring to know that Kylo is at least aware that he’s hated. The crowd is certainly not keeping it a secret, the conversations are so loud that doubtless Kylo could hear them inside that tent. Hux slips amongst them, standing towards the middle. Then he waits.

 

The crowd is getting more and more restless, to the point that Hux suspects that they might storm the tent, guards or no. And then, just when it seems like the tension has reached boiling point, Kylo appears, stepping slowly out of the tent and walking up onto the stage. His hair is almost the same, dark and unkempt. Under the brightness of the sun, it shines like a raven’s wing. He’s dressed in a beige robe with a light blue accent. He looks wrong. The colour washes him out but it doesn’t seem to matter – he still looks healthier than the last time Hux saw him. The marks on his face and hands are as the buds of flowers, closed up, with only a hint of colour peeking out.  

 

Hux scans the crowd for the man from the bar and finds him with ease. He wants to watch him make his move.

 

Even Hux, with no Force sensitivity to speak of, could feel the charge in the atmosphere, the electric tension that precedes a storm. He wonders how Kylo, always so hyper-attuned to the opinions of others, is going to cope with this maelstrom.

 

He just raises a hand.

 

The crowd is not silenced. Jeers of ‘thinks he’s better than us!’ and ‘doesn’t seem so powerful to me’ run through the crowd. A smirk tugs at Hux’s lips.

 

“My friends, I would ask you to calm yourself and to listen to all that I have to say,” says Kylo and, though his voice is not loud, an instant hush falls over the crowd. “I know that you are all aware of the many crimes of my past self. Believe me when I say that I have paid.” He gestures to the marks on his face. “I was being torn apart but still I tried not to listen. I denied the truth that was within me even as my crimes manifested as wounds upon my body. I denied the Light that was buried deep within me. And that’s why I’m here today: to show you.”

 

He pauses. The crowd seems to be swaying. Hux looks from side to side, taking in the rows and rows of people, wearing identical glassy-eyed expressions, their mouths hanging slightly open. He fixes on the man from the bar. He has the blaster half-raised – poised to shoot? The sun glints off it. Sweat runs down Hux’s neck.

 

“I was Kylo Ren and I have been redeemed.”

 

A cry escapes from the crowd and it takes Hux minute to realise it’s ecstasy, not outrage that pulls the sound from their bodies. The man from the bar lets go of his grip on the blaster, it sliding out of his hands and onto the floor. There’s no change in Kylo’s expression that Hux can quantify but Hux can feel his self-satisfied smile.

 

The crowd is dizzyingly drunk on Kylo.

 

Hux is no stranger to the power of oratory but this feels off. There was a reason that Hux had been left to speak on behalf of the Order; Kylo’s skills had always lain in his menacing physicality and extraordinary powers: words had never been his weapons. Hux’s skin prickles. He had felt safe amongst the crowd when they were cynical and belligerent but this feels _dangerous_. He’s alone and surrounded.

 

“There is light within each one of you. You just need to find it. Dig down deep,” Kylo continues. “There! You can feel it, can’t you?”

 

The crowd murmurs their agreement, surprise giving way to joy, as the noise ascends.

 

“All of you, put your hands up with me now,” says Kylo, thrusting them up in the air and Hux stares at the holes in his palms.

 

The crowd obeys, pushing them up and up. For the briefest of seconds, Hux feels almost compelled to join the crowd. He keeps his hands pinned firmly to his hands. Kylo overlooks the crowd, clearly proud of his sheep. Then he stops. Kylo’s eyes lock onto his and Hux feels seen for the first time in months.

 

Kylo’s mouth falls slightly slack. Hux’s chest is tight. Kylo blinks twice in quick succession and then wrenches his gaze away from Hux.

 

“You can feel it can’t you!” Kylo repeats, regaining composure. “We are all capable of redemption. We are all pure underneath. We are perfect!”

 

“Yes, yes,” the crowd agrees. “We are pure underneath. We are perfect.”

 

“I leave you now with this knowledge,” Kylo says and Hux doesn’t know what it is but he has the acute feeling that Kylo is desperate to get off the stage. “Go back to your homes and flourish, my friends.”

 

He waves a hand and then starts to stumble away, ignoring the child-like begging of the masses as he disappears into the tent. Then there’s a loud gasp from one of the flock, cutting through the formless whining. Hux whips his head around and follows her outstretched hand to see what she is pointing at. There’s a streak of bright blood slashing clean across the floor of the stage.

 

Most ignore this. When it becomes clear that Kylo is not going to come back out, they walk off like automatons, most likely to forget whatever it is they think they learned here in a matter of days, if not hours.

 

* * *

 

 

Kylo’s guards take very few precautions when depositing Kylo back in the house at which he is apparently staying. It’s even further out of town and is attached to a long-defunct farm but Hux follows without too much trouble. He supposes that they are not used to anyone disobeying his master’s instructions.

 

He walks through the unlocked door the moment he sees them leave.

 

“Ren.” He’s had conversations with Kylo so many times in his head but the words have rather dried up in his presence, so he starts with a classic. 

 

Kylo is sitting on a worn out sofa, his back to Hux. He posture looks like it should be relaxed but there’s tension in those shoulders. “That’s not my name.”

 

Hux walks around and sits on a chair opposite him. “You expect me to call you 'Skywalker?' I don’t think of you that way.”

 

“I’m flattered to be thought of at all,” Kylo says, all self-conscious flirtation – an affectation for sure.

 

“Don’t play dumb,” Hux snaps. “I came here for you.”

 

“On whose orders? The war is over, General. The Supreme Leader is dead,” Kylo says, eerily calm. 

 

Hux won’t let Kylo provoke him into saying that he is here of his own accord. That much is obvious but he won’t give him the satisfaction. Nor will he rise to the mention of the Supreme Leader. He had been there when Kylo had killed him. No, he will play defence. “If the war is over, then why are you still calling me ‘General’?”

 

Kylo shrugs. “I suppose it’s just a force of habit. You must be the highest ranking member of the Order left.”

 

“Aside from yourself.”

 

“I was never an official part of the Order.” Kylo smiles, vacantly. “You liked to remind me of that often.”

 

“I did witness something out there today. Something that gave me hope,” he says, meeting Kylo’s gaze with steady intensity.

 

Kylo’s brow furrows slightly. “Oh? I have to say I’m pleasantly surprised.”

 

Hux hates the way Kylo is talking, all easy, airy politeness and meaningless expressions. It’s not him. When Kylo speaks it’s like the words are being wrenched from his mouth so hard that they come toppling out in a haphazard jumble after moments of wretched silence. This Ben Skywalker persona is all too smooth and palatable and Hux loathes every part of him. He surely can’t believe what he’s selling – about redemption? About perfection?

 

“But somehow I don’t take you for a true believer,” Kylo says, smiling as though Hux has told a faintly amusing joke.

 

Hux’s eyes train on the movement of Kylo’s cheeks, on the slight stretch of the wounds that sit there. The wounds that he put there. The wounds he put there by accident with the touch of his hand. Hux doesn’t believe in happy accidents but he believes in his own power. Kylo had begged him to come with him when he defected. He had apologised when he had killed the Supreme Leader. He had allowed Hux to escape the destruction and lied about it to his allies amongst the Resistance. 

 

That doesn't just disappear. 

 

“Hux?”

 

Hux snaps back to attention. “I believe in Kylo Ren,” he says, finally.

 

It takes Kylo a moment to realise what he means. “Then you’re delusional. But it’s okay. I believed this lie myself, once.”

 

Hux stands. “Did you really think I would be brainwashed like the idiots out there? You clearly don’t know me very well, _Ben_.”

 

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Kylo bursts out suddenly. Blood starts to trickle out from the wounds on his face. “You won’t let me be good, wouldn’t let me be bad – you’re tormenting me!”

 

“I can, if you want me to,” Hux says because Force does _he_ want to. He dreams of fucking Kylo again, of touching him everywhere and watching the skin fall away underneath his hands. He dreams of using him up, destroying him the way that Kylo destroyed the Order. “I wonder what would happen if I touched you now.” He reaches out a hand towards Kylo.

 

Kylo flinches back. “No. I want you to leave. Why won’t you just leave?”

 

“Have you been dreaming about me?” It’s a shot in the dark but Kylo’s miserable face confirms it for him. “I dream about you too.”

 

Kylo wails and raises a hand and with that Hux feels himself pushed back, around the way he came and out of the room, the door slamming in front of his face before he can fully realise what’s happened. He tries the handle. It won’t budge. “Kylo!” He rams his fist against the door, red rage flashing in front of his eye. “Kylo!” The door does not budge. Hux takes a step back and kicks at the unyielding door. He’s breathing heavily by the time he stops and there is not a dent in the door; he has only a smudged black boot print to show for his efforts.

 

He stops and surveys the door. He was an engineer once. He’d created the greatest weapon the galaxy had ever seen. This shouldn’t defeat him. _Look for the points of weakness._ He feels the door, inspecting it with his hands. It doesn’t take him long to realise that it’s weakest at the frame.

 

Right. Now he needs to decide what to do with that information. He was a General once. He’d captured bases far more fortified than this worn down place. This shouldn’t defeat him. _Create a plan of attack._

He throws his whole body at the door, aiming for the frame. As plans go, it’s not the most sophisticated but he won’t complain if it works. It doesn’t work. He throws himself at the door. It does not break. He throws himself again and again and then stops. Painful heat ripples from his shoulder down the length of his arm. His whole body feels like a bruise.

 

He was Kylo Ren’s lover once. He had never had to bully his way in because Kylo had begged him for his presence. Kylo will not defeat him.

 

_Take some time. Recalculate._

 

Hux walks away and knows that Kylo is watching out the window. He walks with his head held high and his shoulders up. Military posture. Kylo will watch him and he will be forced to see: beneath these rags, Hux is who he’s always been. He is paying for this image of strength in pain, as his body protests every step of the way. It strikes Hux as a fair trade.

 

He’s sweating and covered in red dust by the time he returns to the bar. “You have a room I could rent for the night?” he asks. He hadn’t considered the possibility that he might still be here until now but the sun is setting and it gets very cold at night.  

 

“75 credits.”

 

Hux snorts derisively. This man must think all off-worlders are fools. He could get a decent room on Coruscant for that much. Could if he actually had the credits, that is.

 

“Go elsewhere then.”

 

Once he’d said the same thing to Kylo after he’d complained about Hux’s lack of affection. He knows a bluff when he sees one.

 

“Fine, then.”

 

“You look tired, son,” the barkeeper says quickly. “Just for you, I’ll give you a special rate - 40 credits."

 

“Thank you,” says Hux, not particularly grateful for having all his credits cleaned out in one swoop. Still, if he succeeds, it won't matter. 

 

He turns to turn it but is confronted with the presence of an irritatingly cheerful man. 

 

“Hey, you there,” says a man with a grin so wide it threatens to split his face. “The disciples came by to hand out these. Ben Skywalker’s going to be speaking again! We’re so blessed by his presence!”

 

Hux takes the proffered flimsi and is tempted to laugh. There’s a picture of Kylo (or Ben, as he styles himself) smiling benevolently and the caption reads: ‘hear again the words of the redeemed Ben Skywalker. A miracle will be offered to you tomorrow at noon in the same place.'

 

The plan is fully formed in a matter of seconds. Hux certainly intends to show them something but he’s not sure it’s a miracle.

 

* * *

 

He’s certain that Kylo is expecting him back in the crowd – he’ll probably expect him to follow him back to his lodgings again after he's done speaking. So, he’s waiting inside the tent instead. The flaps open and he strikes before Kylo’s even halfway through, grasping him from behind and putting the tip of his blaster up against his temple.

 

“You wanted this,” he hisses up against Kylo’s ear. He tastes blood against his lips and he stops to savour it. “You would have left this backwater the moment you saw me if you hadn’t wanted me to find you.”

 

“My work is too important…” Kylo chokes out. He seems to be aiming for haughty but he sounds far too panicked for that. “Hux, let me go.”

 

“You can beg better than that.”

 

“Please, Hux. Please, just let me go. Leave here and do not try to find me again.”

 

“No.” He nudges him up towards the entrance of the tent. “Smile. It’s almost time for the show to begin.”

 

He pushes the blaster harder up against Kylo’s temple and pushes him onto the stage. His free hand is wrapped around Kylo, hovering over his chest.

 

“Use your mind-trick now!” Hux taunts. “Make it so that they can’t see what I do to you.” He dips his hand down to touch the sliver of bare skin and feels the slick of blood underneath. “You told them that these marks are the punishment for your crimes. Let me tell them your crimes, _true believer_. Let me tell them how you came to our Order, more than old enough to know your own mind. You swore an oath to your Master. You _promised_ me that we’d restore Order to the galaxy. We would have brought wealth to planet like this. We wouldn’t have ignored the suffering, in favour of mere preaching. You were with us until it looked like we might lose and then you ran. You believe in _nothing_!” He’s not sure when his eyes started to water but the tears are threatening to overspill.

 

The masses are frozen in place but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about any of them.

 

Kylo gave a strangled cough, red spluttering onto his hand. They both stare. Then Hux receives an elbow to the face. His hands are empty. The blaster has clattered out of rage. He’s on the floor looking up at Kylo who is still stood upon the stage. Kylo’s palms are spread wide, arms thrust out from his body. Energy crackles around him. “You will leave this place and go back to your homes.”

 

The crowd disperses.

 

Hux can’t get up, pinned by the invisible weight of his defeat. His tears sink into the dusty ground, leaving only the slightest of marks. There’s dirt on his lips. “Are you going to kill me?”

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

The sudden gentleness in Kylo’s voice ruins him. “Yes,” he rasps. “Yes, please. Kylo…”

 

Then there are strong arms around him, pulling him up. There’s no strength left anywhere in his body to resist. He’s propped up against the warmth of Kylo’s chest and it’s already too hot but he doesn’t care. Kylo’s arms are around his and he can see the blood running out in a steady flow.

 

“Why?” says Kylo and he sounds genuinely baffled.

 

“There’s nothing left,” Hux confesses. These words have been festering inside him for years now “The Order is gone. The mission failed. Everything I worked for…Everything’s gone. The officers, my father. Everything. You’re the only one. You’re the only thing I have left.”

 

“There are so many places in the galaxy you could go. No-one would recognise your face and skills like yours are always in need – you could make it as a smuggler or a mechanic or any other number of things,” Kylo murmurs.

 

“I had a mission. I failed. Our Empire was stillborn. You knew that and you left,” he accuses.

 

“It wasn’t- I wanted to be redeemed,” Kylo explains. “The call to the Light felt so strong but it vanished the moment I switched sides.”

 

“You’re bleeding so much,” says Hux, in sudden alarm. “Let go of me.”

 

“You were right,” says Kylo, distantly. “I never was a true believer. I wanted to believe myself. I just wanted…”

 

Hux flails uselessly in his grasp. “Let me go, now! I’m sorry! Does that help? I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

 

“Don’t you remember? I was always ruined, even before I met you.” His voice is dreamy. “The plan was in motion before you showed up.”

 

“Plan? What plan?”

 

“To die on stage. I’d use my mind trick and get someone to shoot me mid-sermon. I’d ask them to forgive the shooter with my last breaths. It would have been _such_ a good death,” says Kylo, wistfulness running through his voice. His sleeves are soaked through. “The final redemption. Just like grandfather…”

 

Hux understands on some level. Kylo had always looked for grand gestures, something to sweep away his impurities in one great motion. There is no grander gesture than death. Hux had been too stubborn to go down with the ship, too soft to break Kylo's heart with his death, and now he’s paying for it. The body lives but everything he was had died the day the Resistance won.

 

Still, it’s so like Kylo to be so selfish, even in the moment of death. Doesn’t he realise that his words would likely go unheeded? The best that man who could hope for was a quick death at the hands of the mob or else a lifetime of confusion and guilt. The scene had almost played out that way today, though he's cursed with the knowledge that he never would have pulled the trigger. Not even after all Kylo has done. 

 

There’s so much blood. Kylo’s trousers are completely soaked through, wet where they press up against Hux’s legs. They had never sat like this before. It had always been too intimate for Hux to allow himself to even contemplate this.

 

“What changed?” Hux asks finally. He can’t win with strength but he might win with words. “There’s no-one here to see this. No-one will be able to explain what happened to you.”

 

“I’d rather die here with you.”

 

Something flutters painfully in Hux’s chest. “Kylo, please let go.”

 

Kylo’s grip loosens his hands going slack. Painful hope flares up within him. Kylo’s body is resting against his, draped around him like a cloak. Slowly, he turns. The body falls, hitting the ground with a soft thud. There’s no life in Kylo’s dark eyes. Useless panic spikes through Hux and he finds a woundless spot on his wrist to search for a pulse. No wound appears on the skin; there is no blood running through his veins. There is no heartbeat.

 

The panic ceases. The familiar weight of failure settles in his stomach. There’s nothing to do now.

 

Kylo’s taken everything from him.

 

“So selfish,” Hux mutters to unhearing ears.

 

He doesn’t know what to do in the wider sense but what’s left of his sense of protocol tells him that the body needs to be moved. The only trouble is how. Kylo is rather larger than him, even if the difference in height is rather minimal. It’s nice to indulge in the logistics of a problem, if only for a moment.

 

In the end, he picks Kylo up by the arms and hoists him up against his back, dragging the body behind him, the limp feet leaving a wobbly line in the sand. Dust flies up everywhere and Hux coughs as he slowly limps along. Kylo is so heavy against his back. There had been snow the last time he’d had to do this. He wishes there was snow now. Sweat drips from his forehead into his eyes, stinging him. His skin feels seared under the unforgiving heat.

 

It’s strange to feel nostalgic for the moment he had once considered the worst of his life but he hadn’t known then how much further he could sink. He had only lost Starkiller then.

 

The rest of the town slides into view. _Ah yes. Not long now._ He trudges onward. He sees someone squinting at him up ahead. He can only imagine what he looks like silhouetted up against the light of the sun, covered in blood, a body dragging behind him.

 

It’s nice to be fearsome again.

 

He hears a distant shout. The person, a young girl, is pointing at him. Doors open and a steady stream of people slowly walk out as Hux continues his approach. His feet, his back, everything aches but he will last just long enough for this.  

 

“It’s Skywalker! He’s killed Ben Skywalker,” comes a sorrowful cry from somewhere amidst the people.

 

He keeps walking forward.

 

“He’s taken our saviour!”

 

“Murderer!”

 

He’s well within blaster range now.

 

The barkeeper from where he’d been staying comes out to join the crowd, no doubt attracted by the noise. “You’ve killed him!” he exclaims in surprise, meeting Hux’s eye. “You’ve killed Kylo Ren.”

 

Hux looks only at him. “Yes.”

 

The crowd closes in on him. Hux smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Specific warnings: Hux asks Kylo to kill him but Kylo does not oblige. And Kylo essentially uses Hux to commit suicide. At the end, it is implied that Hux is going to die too and that he’s fine with that. 
> 
> -
> 
> I’m aware that Kylo should not be able to hold onto Hux so tightly for so long given his blood loss, nor should he be able to hold such a coherent conversation (well, by his standards anyway) but if the Force allows people to talk and appear in ghostly form after death, then I guess we can pretend that it can do this too. 
> 
> Anyways, I never thought there’d be a sequel to Remade in Marble because, well, I never thought that fic really needed one. I was pretty reluctant to even write this but the idea of it just wouldn’t leave. 
> 
> If you read this, please let me know what you think. This fic took days to write, so I’d really love some feedback!


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